


Migrations and Roots

by beta_cygni



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Coming of Age, Fluff, M/M, Mythological AU, Romance, Satyr Loki, dryad thor, yes I mean smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9400883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beta_cygni/pseuds/beta_cygni
Summary: Young satyr Loki is a staunchly solitary type until he meets a curious oak dryad.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thebookhunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebookhunter/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to my increditalented pal!!! ^_^

In a fluid motion, Loki crouched low next to an oak tree, silently drawing his bow, the quail in his sights oblivious to the hunter. There was no trace of wind. So quiet were the surrounding woods that when a single leaf fell onto Loki’s hand, he heard the soft, papery rasp.

He’d never understood why so many others favored hunting in packs. Silence was by far preferable. Besides, Loki didn’t like deferring to whoever was biggest or loudest, which seemed inevitable in groups. Despite being unable to slay large prey on his own, his stealth often ensured he brought back small game which even the tribe’s hunting packs met with gratitude on days their boisterous approach failed to catch anything.

Among his clan, he was _Loki the Sly_. He had already earned the moniker by the time he had first shown stubs of horns, for his habit of lurking about quietly, often unseen but always watching, sharing little of himself save for tricks and wit. They could have settled for worse, Loki _the Odd, the Solitary, the Rogue_... However they did have use for his speed and they were entertained rather than nettled by his uncustomary ways.

Loki remained poised to shoot, discarding the fallen leaf with a faint twitch of his fingers. He had tensed, ready to release the arrow when another leaf fell, this one brushing his face, making him blink. He felt two more leaves land onto his bare back, their flimsy touch registering as a light tickle though he didn’t dare shrug those off lest his prey heard him.

Loki vaguely sensed there was something strange about the leaves; it wasn’t autumn and no breeze was stirring the trees. Perhaps a small animal was perched on the oak, disturbing its branches, but Loki forbade himself a glance. The quail was again perfectly positioned…

… until something small but hard bounced off Loki’s head with a muted _pop_.

This time Loki flinched as he saw the acorn roll into the grass, and when another bounced off on his shoulder, he whirled around to peer up at the offending critter. Perhaps it would make a suitable meal. However, the canopy seemed free of squirrels or birds.

The quail had scampered away and Loki, with a sigh, fell onto his back. For a moment he let the perfect stillness of the leaves cast their green shade over him. His eyes had begun drifting out of focus when a rustling noise made him twitch thought he failed to dodge the acorn that hit him on the nose.

Loki heard a chuckle and he sprang up.

His gaze quickly found the figure leaning against the tree’s trunk. A boy stared back at him, smiling.

“What do you want? I’m hunting.” Loki muttered, eyeing the boy with suspicion.

“You’re a satyr, right?” The boy said, more a statement than a question.

“Yes; so?”

Loki noticed oak leaves mingled with the young man’s golden hair. He was approximately his own size, though he had feet, not hooves. Loki knew he was not a child of humans, unencumbered by their ubiquitous woven coverings. With his skin dappled in light, leaning carefree onto the tree, he belonged to the forest. Loki surmised he was linked to that oak; a dryad. 

“I thought that satyrs were all shaggy, brutish things; not little deer.” The dryad said, cocking his head.

Loki’s mouth fell open in affront.

“I’m not... _little_. Look at _yourself_ ; what sort of _shrub_ are you?” He scoffed.

“I didn’t mean to make you angry,” The boy grinned, ”You were just… funny.”

“ _Funny?_ ”

“Your tail; it was all twitchy when you were concentrating; did you know?” The boy laughed.

Loki felt a wave of heat rush to his face. He resisted the urge to cover his backside with both hands.

“Oh, right; so what?”

In truth he had no idea his tail did that. Why would he? It’s not like anyone had ever been rude enough to point it out, before this _plant_. 

The dryad’s grin widened in a way that prompted Loki to scowl even harder. However, the oblivious young man began to approach Loki who was caught between the impulse to skip away and the desire to remain stern and impassive. He glared stiff-lipped as the boy stood before him.

“I am Thor; what’s your name?”

“I am Loki the Sly.” Loki declared as ominously as he could though Thor merely seemed puzzled.

“That’s strange… Why?”

Loki’s patience was strained; he lifted his chin defiantly.

“It’s not _‘strange’_ , it is how I am called and I earned it. It is no stranger than being called _Thor the Oak_ …”

“Nobody calls me _Thor the Oak_ ; just Thor.”

This time Loki smirked sharply.

“Heh, but see if you _were_ the biggest, or most impressive oak, they _would_.”

To Loki’s shock, Thor laughed.

“You _are_ sly,” He said gleefully, “But you are more than just sly, aren’t you? You're funny, too. So I’ll call you Loki. Besides it’s shorter.” 

Before Loki could decide whether he was more intrigued than annoyed, Thor moved on to his next query.

“Did you make this? Can I see it?”

“It’s just a bow; don’t you know what it is?”

“I’ve seen them before but never held one.”

On this point, Thor’s naiveté wasn’t shocking; after all, dryads had no need to hunt, nourished through their roots by the land itself. Weapons were the staples of the hunting and wandering creatures. 

Loki hesitantly lifted the bow and arrow he had been clutching in one hand. Thor clasped them with interest, drawing back the string. 

“Would you show me how to use it?”

Loki cringed in annoyance.

“Why? You don’t need it. Unlike myself; I am _trying_ to find food, remember?”

“I think I would enjoy it; not the hunting but the learning perhaps… Oh, and there is a blackberry bush over this way if you’re hungry...” Thor added as an afterthought. He picked an arrow off the grass and clumsily nocked it, waving it dangerously askew as he drew the bow.

“I am not some bird; I need more than just… _Stop that_ ,” Loki exclaimed, scrambling to jump away from the weapon’s erratic range. Thor lowered his arms.

“You see? I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone; so if you show me how…”

“That makes little sense; if you wish to harm no one, then drop the bow.”

Thor kept trying to load the weapon and awkwardly pulled back the string. Before he could lose his arrow or take out the eye of some unfortunate passing forest dweller, Loki sighed. 

“If I do that will you stop bothering me?”

“Of course; then we’ll be friends.”

Loki gaped at Thor’s infuriatingly unwavering smile.

He could have pointed out that he barely called anyone _friend_ \- much less a benighted tree; yet he couldn’t shake the strange notion that the golden-haired boy was right.

Then he remembered the acorns.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this illustration](http://lunariagold.tumblr.com/post/151318309434/satyrdryad-thorki-au-ok-its-porn-you-are-a) I did a while back (NSFW)


End file.
